Place and Time Unknown : The Eye
by Charlien
Summary: Alfons Heiderich suddenly finds himself in an empty white nothingness without remembering what exactly happened. Mysterious things start happening to him with root in his fears of letting Edward go. Heiderich-centric midquel.


AN: **All of my stories in connected to each other**, and the same goes for this one. You don't have to have read any of the other stories before reading this one.

To those of you who have read _Munich 1923 : Our Worlds Meet_, this one-shot is a midquel where the timeline is during Chapter 13. Yaoi implied.

To those of you who are reading _Amestris 1917 : The Equivalent Bond_, this is a harbinger

– Dedicated to Kristie –

**Place and Time Unknown : The Eye**

--

_When do you have the obligation to call yourself completely physically _lost?

You aren't completely physically lost if you simply don't know where you are and at the same time able to see other people around you. Then you can simply ask someone for directions.

Neither are you completely lost if you know where you are on the map but you don't see anyone near you. Because then you probably know where to go to find someone.

Alfons Heiderich thought he had had the obligation to feel completely physically lost _before_; even if he had a person living with him that he loved more than anything in the world, even if he had worked with a project that would make his dream come true, and even spent every minute of his time in the city he loved, in his own world.

The only obstacle he had was the reason why he thought he had had the obligation. His physic simply wasn't there with him. He was sick. He was destined to die before his next birthday, which would only be his eighteenth. He would die and never see that certain person again, and he wouldn't have time to fulfil his own dream.

This illness had made his life seem completely pointless. He had worked hard to make himself acknowledged by his own country, by anyone. But it didn't seem like he had time for even that.

It had made him feel more lost than he could ever imagine possible. And instead he had thought he might've been able to fulfil _Edward's_ dream. To help him come back to his own world.

Edward hadn't wanted to cross the Gate. But Alfons had still shamelessly put him in the rocket, and explained that he couldn't stay with him.

"_I want you to go."_

_He was dying anyway._

It was one of the last things he remembered.

Alfons moseyed towards a spot of nothing in front of him. At this very moment he understood the meaning of how lost he really could become. He had never imagined that a place like this even existed. It probably didn't.

He couldn't see anyone, barely _anything _and even less could he figure out where he was. He was still dying. And Edward was nowhere near him.

In this case, you only have the obligation to call yourself completely lost if you're all alone in an empty white space, and don't have the slightest idea how you got there.

Everything was quiet. Everything was empty.

On top of that, he didn't know where Edward was in the first place either, or what had happened to him. An agonizing shot of worry struck through the pit of his stomach, and he let his wide blue eyes wander from whiteness to more whiteness.

"Hello?" he tried half-heartedly.

His voice echoed silently into the nothingness, sounding weak and pathetic. Not really making himself feel the slightest bit calmer, Alfons turned around where he stood. But it didn't matter what direction he faced. Everything looked exactly the same everywhere.

The last thing his memory would commit to him was how he broke Edward's heart. By telling the truth about his disease and wanting to send him back to his world so he could continue living. It had been Edward's only chance to go back. It was what he had wanted all along. And then Alfons had coughed hard again to make out his point, even without meaning to.

Those eyes. Those large orbs of gold, staring in hurt and disbelief. He would never forget them as long as he had a memory to carry.

In the last, he had even asked Edward a favour.

"_Just… don't forget me."_

Like Alfons had deserved something like that. Maybe he even deserved to be sick, he thought bitterly.

He could still feel the metallic taste of iron on his tongue from earlier. His lungs were stiff, and he felt so tired. This sickness was a punishment. He was being punished for something, but no one had ever cared to tell him for what. It was starting to get a hold of him, and it was doing it fast. He didn't know how long he could hold it back anymore. Maybe this was it already.

Yes, Alfons thought grimly. It made sense after all. The last thing he remembered was that he was dying. So maybe he was actually dead.

Dead.

"So what do you call this?" he dryly asked the white silence. "Heaven? Hell?"

It didn't look like any of the guesses. But Alfons supposed it was closer to Hell, because he was all alone. That was Hell to him. To be alone. Forever.

If it had been Heaven he would at least have seen his mother and father again. They had been good people. No wonder why they weren't here with him.

Not that Alfons could figure out what evil he had done to the world to deserve this. Or maybe there was one thing.

"I love him," he whispered in a low voice. "Why is that such a crime?"

A thing like that was so despised by people, hated by the world and forbidden by God. Alfons couldn't even stand the thought of how taboo it was. That's probably how he had coped until now. He hadn't thought so much about it. There was one thing in the world he had refused to worry about, and that was that it was a crime to love another person. As long as anyone never found out, it would be fine.

But God had known, hadn't he?

Alfons was from a Christian family. They had believed, with all their hearts. Even when his father was sent to war. Even when his mother suffered month after month from the incurable disease. They had both died young.

Alfons wasn't old either. He was too young to die. He had barely even lived yet. What had he really accomplished? Had he done anything for his beloved Germany? What would be carved into his gravestone? He was no one's beloved son, he had no completed education, he was a failed rocket scientist, and the only person who perhaps would've cried for him had probably returned to his own world by now.

"So tell me," Alfons said languidly, the questions repeating inside his mind. "What have I accomplished?"

With his heart heavy as a stone inside his chest, the answer echoed in his mind.

Nothing. _Nothing_.

His gravestone would say: _Error. Please try again later._

If there even existed any later.

Alfons breathed fast out his nose and moved his hand to his chest. On his left side, as to check if his heart was still beating. His hand was shaking. Then he realized that he could really feel it. His heart _was _beating.

His hand was suddenly fisting the front of his shirt where he still could feel the soft thumping. He still wanted to accomplish something. But it was too late nonetheless now, wasn't it? You're just a small pathetic boy. You'll never accomplish anything now. You'll never see Edward again. You are nothing.

Alfons abruptly lifted his hands, pressing each of his palms to the sides of his head, lowering his gaze. His light-blond bangs fell into his face, covering his already tightly shut eyes.

"I know," he said pitifully. "Just make it quick."

Why was he so Goddamned insignificant? Why was he always the one who couldn't do anything that could actually make a difference? Why was he always so useless?

And… why was he even here still? If he was dead, why could he breathe and think and move? Why did his heart slam so hard against the inside of his chest?

So many questions.

Alfons wanted rest. He stared up, looking determinedly into the nothingness. "If I'm dead, I want to rest," he said decisively, crossing his arms. He didn't care how miserable he was. This was _his_ death, so he should have something to say in it!

"Why do you make me stand here and make my thoughts drive myself insane?" Alfons scowled at the whiteness. "What I'm I supposed to do to make this end?"

Who was he talking to when there wasn't anyone near anyway? There had been no signs that anyone or anything was out there, whatever this place was. And if it was, it hadn't been even a tiny sign that whoever was out there cared about him or his "nonexistence". Part from that he still existed _here_. He existed here, but not in his own world. Alfons didn't have to be Einstein to figure out that this wasn't his world. It wasn't even Edward's world. But that wasn't a relief either.

"If I'm still here, let me go back," Alfons tried. It couldn't hurt trying. Edward would've tried anything and fought it with everything he had. He would've fought against a tornado if he had to. Edward always put up a fight. He would've figured out a way, likely something _crazy_, and he wouldn't have hesitated to do it. And he always made it through.

Alfons didn't _want_ to die yet after all. There was a lot of things he would rather do right now. For example, he wanted to find Edward. He wanted to say he was sorry and that it was up to Edward if he wanted to stay or not. It didn't matter to Alfons, right now he just wished to see Edward _one more time_ before he died.

Alfons shook his head and pinched his own arm hard. This was probably just the most terrifying and weirdest dream he had ever had. He clutched his eyes tight. Soon, he would wake up and maybe he would even be lying next to Edward and he would hug him and kiss him and tell him that he never wanted him to leave.

"Wake up!" Alfons demanded himself. "Let me wake up!"

His arm hurt. He had broken the skin, and some blood dripped innocently down onto the white ground.

Alfons took a deep breath, just staring widely at the thin crimson stripe on his arm. This couldn't actually be _real_, could it?

The red drops drew tiny small circular spots on the ground. Although, Alfons couldn't quite call it a real ground. It didn't feel like anything solid, but neither was it soft.

The spilled blood started suddenly to dissolve, right in front of his eyes, and he frowned down at it. The blood _vanished_. And then, everything was turned into non-colour again.

Alfons felt startled, not understanding why it could be possible for something to just disappear and turn into nothing like that. Would that happen to him too? He swallowed hard.

Then something happened.

Something actually _happened_.

Something _appeared._

Alfons stared wide-eyed and let out a loud sound that only could be described as a scream, and his legs refused to hold him up standing. He fell heavily to his knees in front of it, but still completely unable to take his eyes off of it.

A large, black Gate had immerged in front of him. At the front there was a double door, and carved into it was a great, frightening eye.

Alfons breath started to come out short and sharp. What the hell was this thing? It reminded him sickly of...

He gasped. Edward had told him about _the Gate_. Was this it? Was this the Gate that had brought Edward to Alfons' world two years ago?

Could he enter it? What would he find on the other side? His world? Or... _Edward's_ world?

Either way, that thing seemed to be the only way out of here. Right there and then it didn't matter where he ended up, as long as he could escape this maddening nothingness.

Alfons started to rise to his feet, but then everything started roaring and thundering, and the entire nothingness was shaking like an earthquake.

Alfons sank back to his knees, screaming, eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. He had no idea what was happening. Was everything crumbling? Was this _the end_?

Then it stopped. He took a deep breath. Was it really over? Was he back?

When he opened his eyes, he felt a little disappointed over to see that it was still white everywhere. No, he wasn't back. But suddenly he felt something else. A hand lay down on his shoulder.

Alfons jerked back and stared with a gasp up at the unexpected person who was suddenly standing right beside him.

"Alfons." Edward's intelligent gold eyes narrowed down at him.

Alfons stared at him in shock. "Edward..." he whispered. He rose quickly and wrapped his arms tightly around the older teen's shoulders. "Edward," he cried. "I thought I'd never see you again."

Edward seemed a little taken aback, and didn't return the embrace. Alfons couldn't blame him, after what he had done to him.

"I'm sorry," Alfons said softly. "I wanted to tell you that I don't want to decide for you. I want you to stay. If you still want to."

"It's too late now," Edward said. "Just look where you are, Alfons."

Alfons released him, puzzled by how Edward had chosen his words. Not "_look where _we_ are_", but "_you_".

"What do you mean?" he asked, his voice shakily.

Edward gestured dramatically towards the Gate, and Alfons suddenly realized that it was still here as well.

"It isn't as easy as it looks like. Unless you really are _dead_, you can't simply enter it without being an alchemist." He crossed his arms and sighed nonchalantly. "You're stuck here. It could take years before the Gate opens again. And what would wait for you on the other side? Would you ever manage to get _through_ it to the other side?"

Alfons listened, his eyes scowling towards the large dark stone doors. The eye was there. Staring at him. Mockingly.

Something strange had occurred to him. Edward didn't feel like he usually did. The way he was scoffing at him like that. And why wasn't he bringing up their last conversation again, which was far from over?

"What about you then?" Alfons asked, feeling suddenly wary. "How will you get away from here?"

"As easy as I came here," Edward said simply.

"How did you get here?" Alfons asked fast.

Edward gazed at him and crooked his head a little. "You don't know?"

Alfons didn't know _what_ he knew! Or what to believe. He only knew one thing. "You're not the real Edward, are you?" he asked. His voice came out soft and defeated.

"I'm just the one you wanted to meet," the doppelganger of Edward said. He pointed at the Gate. "_It_ knows."

Alfons gazed up at the huge stone doors again. This thing had somehow some weird magic power. It had power over his mind and soul, he somehow understood that. Even enough power that it could make him _see things_? Things like an imaginary Edward?

Maybe this Gate was really Heaven and Hell _combined_. It would decide the destiny for you. If such thing as destiny even existed. The real and atheistic Edward hadn't believed in things like that. Neither destiny nor God.

"What can I do?" Alfons asked hopelessly, as much to himself as the other, even though he knew this person was only a fake image. He was desperate. "Don't you know of anything I can do? I don't want to be stuck in this place forever."

The doppelganger thoughtfully rubbed his cheek. "You don't have many alternatives, Alfons. If you go back to your own world, you will die. If you go to _my_ world, you might live."

Go to Edward's world?

"Where is the real Edward?" Alfons asked fast. He did in fact not know if Edward was in Munich or if he was in his own world.

"I can't tell you that," the doppelganger said. "But how do you think you ended up in this place?" He sniggered, like it was the most humours thing in the world.

"I don't know," Alfons said, as truth was.

"You're here because of him. But that doesn't matter now, does it?" the fake said. "He tries to save your life. And what are you doing for him in return?"

"What?" Alfons whispered. Edward was trying to save him? Right now? How? Where was the real Edward? How could he find him?

"I need to go to Edward," Alfons said pleadingly. "What am I supposed to do?"

The fake image of Edward smirked at him, and once again gestured towards the Gate. "Ask _it_."

Then suddenly, the doppelganger was gone. He just _vanished_. Alfons turned in every direction, but he was still nowhere to be seen. Alfons slowly faced the large black Gate of stone again. He stopped for a moment. What could he say to a door? Screw it. Either was he insane, or he would be sooner or later.

"Let me in," he said to the door. "Bring me back to Edward."

The huge eye on the door didn't blink. It was simply a piece of art, carved into the cold stone.

"Please," Alfons added half-heartedly. It couldn't possibly show him that it understood. ...Or could it?

And suddenly, the doors miraculously started to _open_.

Alfons gasped, feeling his knees shake so badly that he sank back down and a strange wind pulled at him from all directions. It came from the small crack, and soon it was so strong that Alfons had to cover half of his face with his arm.

All so slowly the pair of doors pushed themselves outwards by themselves, revealing a deep blackness inside.

Alfons lunged after his own breath and tried to calm down his racing heart. This was it. Would he die or see Edward again? Maybe neither? Maybe he would be trapped in the dark? There were no signs of light inside the Gate. How was he supposed to find the way?

Determinedly he rose back onto his feet. He had always feared to make a jump into something he didn't know much of on beforehand, even if the opportunity could be worth it. Now it was time to prove to himself that he could be brave enough to take his chances. That's what Edward would've done.

Alfons was about to leap right towards the Gate, into the darkness, determined as he had never been before, but then he abruptly stopped dead. Completely frozen to the white hold of nothingness around him, his legs refused to move.

A huge _eye_ had appeared in the darkness. A real eye. It was large and was blinking a couple of times before it fixed sharply at him. It was glowing purple and red, an unnatural eye colour, and suddenly – more eyes were appearing all around it in the darkness. These eyes were smaller, but all the eyes had all kind of different sizes.

Alfons' own eyes nearly popped out of his skull in shock. What was this? A creature with a million eyes? A million creatures staring at him? Or was he really going insane now?

Alfons had no idea what to believe. All he knew was that he was starting to really freak out of all this.

"Who are you?" he called shakily, standing on guard. He was surprised that he had any traces of voice left in him and even be able to form coherent words.

_You cannot enter here_, it said. _You cannot enter the other world._

Alfons' blood froze to ice. It _spoke_! But it hadn't been an audible voice. It was more like... the words had showed up as a message inside his head. But that wasn't the most important thing right now. Wasn't going through the Gate his absolute _only_ chance in the world to escape this place? He had to find a way through it!

"Why?" Alfons asked. "Why can't I?"

_You're sick_, it said.

Alfons fell silent, thinking. Maybe there weren't sicknesses in the other world. Edward had never been sick even once. So he couldn't go there, because then he might make other people sick.

He lowered his head. "Then bring me back to my own world," he said silently. "If I am to die, I want to die in Munich."

The eyes just watched him for a long minute, as if they considered.

_No_, it said.

Then the doors abruptly swung shut in front of him with a loud slam. In the next blink, the Gate was all gone. Vanished without a trace. Everything he could see was just white again.

Alfons stared straight forward in disbelief, at the place the Gate had been only two seconds before.

"You can't do this!" he exclaimed, once again falling to his knees. This time in defeat.

He was _trapped_ in this place. For how long was that thing planning on keeping him here? Why was it doing this to him?

"Funny, isn't it?" Edward's voice said.

No, not Edward's. Alfons scowled at the fake, who suddenly was just there again. He didn't think this was funny at all.

"It's one too much of you in the world," Edward said, grinning at him.

"What the hell does that mean?" Alfons wheezed, but somehow he just knew.

He was in all probability talking about Edward's little brother. Edward had told him he looked so much like him it had been painful for Edward to be around him. That they were two parallel people. Was Alfons the excessive one?

"Of course I would want to choose my brother over you," Edward continued, as if he hadn't even heard Alfons' question. "Aren't you dying anyway?"

Alfons started to feel a little annoyed by the fake doppelganger. He didn't appear anything like Edward at all, except for his looks. "Don't you have somewhere to go?" he asked bitterly. "If you don't want to help me, why are you here?"

Edward kept grinned at him. "Ow, did I hit a sore spot?"

Alfons groaned. "Go away." He lay down on his back on the white ground, staring focussed up at the white "sky" or whatever it was. He tried to think. But it wasn't so easy with a certain someone hanging around him.

"Do you think I would even miss you?" Edward asked mockingly. "As soon as I see my brother again, I'll never pay you even a second thought."

"Why are you doing this to me?" Alfons whispered, staring up into nothing. "How long is this going to last?"

Edward laughed. "Do you think you have been here for a long time? Let me tell you something. The time gap between the worlds is not quite the same. And in _here,_ it's even more different. What feels like months or even years in here is really only a few seconds in the real world."

Alfons' mouth opened, but not a sound came out. For how long had he been here? It felt like hours. But what if the real Edward hadn't even noticed that he was gone?

The thought of spending years of his life trapped in this place frightened him to death. And together with a _fake_ Edward, on top of it all.

"I'll wait for him here," Alfons said in a weak tone. "Sooner or later he'll notice that I'm gone, and maybe he'll know what happened to me. Maybe he can bring me back."

Edward laughed even harder. "You really believe that, don't you? You're even more stupid than I thought."

"Get lost," Alfons said. "Leave me alone."

"Empty words," Edward said. "You know you can't get rid of me. I'm here because you are here. Simple as that."

Alfons didn't think that sounded any simple. He took some deep breaths and tried to relax where he was lying and think rationally. If he really had only been here for a couple of seconds, how long would it take for the Gate to show up again? Would it even show up again ever? Would he never have a chance to sneak into it? Maybe his only option was really to believe Edward would find him.

"I wonder how you always can be so tolerant," Edward said, staring down at him and Alfons shut his eyes so he didn't have to look at him. He silently wished he could shut his ears as well.

"You always let me say and do whatever I want, just like you do now," Edward continued matter-of-factly. "And whatever I do, you always forgive me. Even if I hurt you. It's quite touching. I've hurt you sometimes, right?"

"Just shut up, will you?" Alfons said. "You're not the real Edward, so stop pretending that you are."

The fake didn't reply at that, and when Alfons opened his eyes he saw the false expression of hurt in his features.

"Don't tell me you've forgotten our first time," Edward said dramatically. "I'm disappointed in you, Alfons. But you are a selfish bastard, that's probably why."

Alfons' eyes narrowed sharply, sitting up on his elbows. "I've never had a first anything with you," he said irritated. "You're just a bogus."

The fake eyed him intently, and it pained Alfons how much this fake looked like him. So that's what Edward felt whenever he was around and thought about his brother...

"Maybe I have to make you remember," the fake said cunningly.

Alfons didn't like that look he was receiving.

All of a sudden Edward jumped at him at Alfons found himself pinned to the ground underneath the false form. Lost in shock, Alfons couldn't even think when cold lips pressed against his and claimed them hungrily. His arms were getting pinned down by one flesh and one prosthetic hand.

The kiss was nothing like he had ever felt before. It was so cold. So empty. Not a single spark. Somehow Alfons was relieved. It could only mean that Edward was nothing like this person at all. Whatever this person said or did, it did not resemble anything Edward would say or do.

Alfons muffled a sound of protest into the kiss and abruptly twisted his head away. He struggled, snarling and trying to pull his arms free while writhing his slender form in an attempt to slip away from the replica.

"Putting up a fight now?" Edward said excitedly. "I like fighting."

"Get off!" Alfons ordered sharply.

Edward swung his hand abruptly down, hitting him hard across his cheek. Luckily with his left hand, but that didn't make Alfons less shocked. Surprised and awfully _hurt_, he could only lay there paralyzed as he felt the pulsing pain against his skin.

"I won't," the bogus said, smirking.

Alfons breathed hard and stared widely at him, still struck by shock and at the same time struggling to remember that this _wasn't_ Edward. Edward would never hit him. He wouldn't harm him.

Edward's fake grinning features started to really get on Alfons' nerves. It got even worse when he felt a cold hand feel down his body.

"Stop it!" He attempted to fight him off again, harder this time. And even if Edward tried to get down another hit at him, he didn't manage to hold both of his arms down at the same time. Alfons caught his wrist, and flipped it to the side, just enough to kick the rest of the assaulter away from him. He rolled onto his feet, and didn't hesitate to attack while the other still struggled to carry himself to his feet. It took the fake by a surprise. Alfons pinned the assaulter down on the ground, surprised that it was so easy. He had never won a fight with the real Edward. He lunged down a fist which connected to Edward's face. Hard. He really hadn't thought he would've been able to do something like that. He was far from a violent sort of person.

Edward coughed and bled from his nose. But still, nothing Alfons had done had succeeded in wiping that sly grin off his face.

"I taught you that, didn't I?" Edward grinned.

Alfons fumed at him in disgust. "You're not him."

"Hit me again," Edward said.

Alfons gritted his teeth. "You're insane."

Edward laughed. "We'll see who the insane one is." Then he abruptly kneeled him right into the stomach, and Alfons was knocked over to lie on his side, cringing and gasping for air. He had no other way than recover from it as fast as humanly possible, because the bogus lunged at him again and they rolled around on the nondescript white ground.

Edward got in a few more painful punches at him that luckily missed his face, before Alfons managed to pin him down with both of his hands clenched around his throat. Taking a deep breath, Alfons tightened the hold. He couldn't care less if this Edward died.

At least he thought so...

The fake Edward stared up at him with an odd look in his face. Was it... triumph?

Alfons was confused. The more he dominated the more pleased this Edward seemed to get.

"You know," Edward said. "If you kill me, what do you think will happen?"

Alfons snorted, but didn't let go. "I'll probably have one problem less."

"Sure. What do you think will happen to the real Edward if I die?"

Alfons froze. What did he mean by that? What did it matter if this Edward disappeared? He didn't have any sort of connection to the real one. Did he? Alfons suddenly became unsure. How was he supposed to know? What if the Gate could produce some kind of voodoo-effect? Which meant that hurting this Edward would cause the real one the same pain?

Edward grinned, as if he was reading his mind. "You're onto something."

Alfons' hands started trembling, but he couldn't let go. The fake would simply beat him to crap if he did.

"But not quite. I fooled you," Edward said. Then without a slightest warning, the fake vanished again. He turned into nothing. Alfons was alone again. But something was terribly wrong. His nose thumped in pain. It hadn't done that a few seconds ago. And he had trouble breathing. He couldn't breathe. He found out the reason shortly after. His own hands were clenched around his own throat.

He let go of himself, struck by shock. Blood was once again dripping and vanishing against the white surface. It came from _his_ nose.

Alfons frowned as he touched his own hurting nose with a shaking hand and saw the blood getting printed onto his hand.

This injure wasn't caused by the fake Edward. This was the pain _he_ had caused on the fake Edward, and now they were somehow transferred onto him.

No.

It wasn't that easy.

The Gate had the greatest existing power, so great that it wasn't even imaginable. It went highly above the power of alchemy or any other scientific phenomena in the world.

Alfons realized, it could even make him see and hear things that had never been there.

The only thing that had been present the whole time was his own fear. His deepest and greatest fears for of how Edward could behave towards him. Of course, Edward would never act like the fake. But still, this character had been created by him; Alfons. With help from the Gate of course. The fake Edward had known things Alfons or the real Edward couldn't have known. For example about the aspect of time.

Alfons took a deep breath and dried some blood off on his shirt. He had caused himself this pain. He had even tried to suffocate himself.

Maybe he really deserved to die now. As miserable and pathetic as he was.

_There is one way_, it said.

Alfons gasped and lifted his head fast. The Gate was back! The huge black doors stood in front of him yet again. Tall, dark and mighty.

Alfons slowly rose to his feet. _Not_ doing this now that he had a second chance didn't even cross his mind. "I'll take it."

If all of this was all in his mind, so be it. If this was a nightmare, fine. He just wanted to get out of it. Wake up. Die. Whatever.

_I'll take your illness away, and then you can pass on to the world on the other side. You won't remember anything of this moment,_ it said.

Alfons could hardly believe his own head. Did it actually say that?

But if this was really as real as it felt, the Gate could have the power to do that.

_In exchange, there will be consequences,_ it said. _And if you die or touch alchemy, I will take you back. You'll become one of us._

Alfons' eyes narrowed nervously. What did that mean? What consequences was it talking about? How would he even know this if his memories would be erased?

_Or you can stay here and be__come my prey right away_, it continued.

"No," Alfons said horrified, trying to stop his own trembling. "I'll go." Whatever happened, he would hopefully find a way to remember before it was too late. He had to try. He wanted to see Edward again.

_As you wish._

The doors started opening for the second time, and Alfons felt his heart start racing again. Could he really trust what the Gate said? Looking into this darkness before him, it looked like there had been a monster inside it, just waiting to swallow him.

The doors hadn't even fully opened yet before something long and black shot right out of it. Right towards him! And it was many of them.

Alfons gasped, and was utterly frozen to the ground.

The black things reached out for him and snuck around him like rope. Alfons looked horrified at it, seeing what the black things looked like this close. Black hands. Lots of long and petite black hands. Like the hands of children. He couldn't see the other end of them. They were coming directly out of the darkness of the Gate.

Was this another part of his twisted insanity that only the Gate could produce from him?

Alfons attempted to struggle, but the things efficiently restrained him and prevented him from even moving. They were everywhere! Twisting fiercely around his arms, wrists, chest, stomach, thighs and legs – and tightened.

"What are you doing?!" Alfons exclaimed, pulling hopelessly at the restraints. "Let go!"

The Gate didn't answer, which alarmed Alfons even more. One of the black hands circled around his throat like a snake. He shut his eyes tightly, close to hyperventilating. This was a nightmare. It had to be. Nothing like this really existed. It wasn't possible.

He felt something uncomfortable happening at his chest, and when he opened his eyes and looked down his eyes widened in shock. One of the black hands had gone right into his body, and still pushed into his chest. Underneath the skin, passed the muscles and skeleton inside him. And it _moved_. Like it was literally swirling around inside his chest.

_No, no, no, NO._ It was the most horrifying thing he had ever seen. Alfons opened his mouth to start screaming his lungs out, but something stopped him. Another black hand pressed into his mouth, right down his throat, and efficiently cutting off the scream.

Alfons gagged and struggled not to choke. He still managed to utter the most horrific scream he had ever uttered, even if it became muffled of the gag. But he couldn't breathe. As his own scream had emptied his lungs for air, he could hardly get enough oxygen back into his system.

What was this thing doing to him? He wanted it to stop. He wanted to wake up or just die. This monster was killing him. But why did it have to do it so slowly?

After what felt like an eternity, both the black hands inside his chest and the one pushed into his throat pulled abruptly away, leaving him hanging half unconscious in the remaining restraints. The black hands were all that kept him up.

He spat in disgust, feeling a sour and dry taste of the monstrous thing that had just been invading him. His head felt heavy and dizzy after the lack of air. His throat was sore and his chest felt weird. Afraid to look, he forced his eyes to open and gaze down at himself.

But part from the way he was restrained, he seemed to be completely whole. Like nothing had just pierced his chest. There was no hole, no blood, and no wound.

Alfons figured his mind still wasn't done playing tricks on him.

_It is done_, it suddenly said inside his head, and he gasped. _Your illness is removed._

Alfons breathed hard and lifted his head up towards the doors. Was that really true? Wasn't he sick anymore? It had literally gone into him and _removed_ his consumption?

That was insane...

_Before you go to the other world, one thing is yet to be done_, it continued.

Alfons swallowed a couple of times, trying to soothe his dry throat. So it wasn't over yet. What was going to happen _now_?

He got the answer immediately afterwards, as one of the black hands moved abruptly underneath his right foot and locked it firmly into a tight grip.

Alarmed, Alfons tried to tug his foot loose, but it was impossible.

The huge eye opened inside the darkness of the Gate as the doors were completely wide now, and it stared intently at him.

_This mark will be on you until your death, and until you return to me_, it said.

An incredibly strong and burning pain shot up Alfons' body from his foot. He cringed and screamed while pulling strongly at the monstrous restraints without use, and finally felt the warm tears pressing out of his eyes.

This isn't happening, he told himself. This is a nightmare of someone who is dead. If he had been alive, he would've waked up ages ago. Wouldn't he?

Then it was over. All the black hands retreated at once, and Alfons collapsed on the white ground. He just lay there on his stomach for some long minutes, breathing hard and fighting to keep his eyes open. The pain in his foot still burned intently. What the hell had it done to him?

Alfons sat up slowly to his knees, just focusing on breathing for now. He was still here. His hand lifted and pressed at his own chest. His heart was still beating. He looked up towards the Gate. The enormous eye was also still there.

Sitting up, Alfons clutched around his foot, afraid to see what he would find. He just knew that something was there now, that hadn't been there before. And something told him that it would be hard to get rid of it.

He turned his foot around to see. He took a sharp and shaky breath at the sight. Yes, something was there. Alfons closed his eyes, not wanting to look at it again. But as it was burned into his skin, it was as burned into his mind as well.

A mark, showing an oval shape with a circle inside. The symbol of _The Eye_. The same one that was carved into the black stone-doors of the evil Gate.

_I'll be watching you_, it said.

As that was said, the huge eye closed and only blackness remained inside the Gate.

Alfons rose slowly up to his feet, feeling the pain was already drifting away into a minor prickling.

This was it.

He couldn't help thinking about Edward, missing him so much that he could feel the ache stronger than any physical wound. As long as he could find the real Edward again, he would have everything to live for. He wouldn't die yet. This was just the beginning.

In front of him, the doors were still open for him to enter. So this was the deal he had to make with the Gate. And there was no turning back now. Even if the dark inside the huge door was a scary place, it was the only way to go and he'd better disappear fast before the Gate changed its mind.

Alfons sprang forwards, closing his eyes and dived straight into the darkness with his arms stretched out in front of him, the picture of Edward still burned into his mind. As soon as he had done that, the doors slowly closed themselves with a creaking sound. The slam echoed behind him into the darkness.

First he was afraid that he had made a mistake. Was he falling? Would he fall into an eternal dark abyss and never see anything related to the earth again?

No.

Alfons suddenly felt something rather different. Something was lifting him. It was the black hands from earlier. Dead souls in the form of monsters. But they weren't hostile towards him like they had been before. They were actually showing him the right way. Lifting him towards his freedom on the other side.

During the way, Alfons saw a long series of random images playing in his mind. It was like he was watching a movie replaying inside his head.

According to the fake Edward he could spend a long time in here, while there was really only a few seconds in the real world. But therefore he had more than enough time to study each and every picture, piece of art, image of nature, each new word of a language he had never heard before and observe a war he had never participated in. But all of this knowledge belonged to the world, and that was the reason why it was relevant also to him.

Alfons closed his eyes with a soft smile as his consciousness drifted off towards a small suggestion of a faint light far away into the distance.

It was the other side of the Gate. He just knew the real Edward had gone ahead of him to that place. His home. We'll make it there together.

Home.

_Wait for me. I'll be there soon._

--


End file.
